Chapter 59: News Coverage

In Chu Luoxi’s opinion, Ding Ju was merely Xiao Jingxuan’s assistant, and today she was simply tasked with bringing her to the audition. Breakfast, such a “minor” matter, was hardly something worth mentioning, so she paid no mind to Ding Ju’s anxious agitation.

Yet Ding Ju, entrusted with instructions from Leng Daji and the great Xiao, had wholly taken herself to be Chu Luoxi’s assistant. To her, this was no small thing—it was of utmost importance. Their minds were not aligned, so naturally, their thoughts could never quite connect.

But when Chu Luoxi asked so directly, Ding Ju was at a loss for how to explain. After a moment of indecision, she mumbled, “How can you skip breakfast? Even something simple is better than nothing! Now it’s almost noon, let’s hurry and get something to eat!”

She acted on impulse, urgency rising, and pulled Chu Luoxi toward the door. Hearing this, Chu Luoxi could not help but feel amused—what sort of scene was this, exactly? Still, she did not stop Ding Ju’s actions, since she intended to eat anyway.

Compared to Ding Ju, Chu Luoxi was far more familiar with the film city. In her previous life, she had lingered here for years, and knew intimately which places served the best food, whose skills were most authentic, which owners were trustworthy—she could recite them all from memory. Most of the businesses here were old establishments, having operated for years, each with its own character and reputation.

Having skipped breakfast, she now craved something light and warming for her stomach. In the end, it was she who led Ding Ju to a suitable place.

“Tsk, tsk, you seem very familiar with the film city!” Ding Ju remarked, purely admiring, since she was herself a newcomer, even if only an assistant.

“I’ve heard people talk about it, so I remembered,” Chu Luoxi replied calmly, expertly ordering several dishes. The owner even gave her an extra glance, thinking she was a regular.

Chu Luoxi preferred the quiet of a private room, so even though she had nothing to avoid, she requested one, intending to enjoy her meal properly—and it made conversation easier.

This put Ding Ju at ease as well. “So, how did your audition go?” Her curiosity had reached its peak; she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“It’s done,” Chu Luoxi answered as if discussing a glass of water, so simply that Ding Ju was momentarily stunned.

“Wh-what do you mean, done?” Ding Ju’s expression was a bit foolish, as if still digesting Chu Luoxi’s words.

Chu Luoxi chuckled, amused. “Weren’t you asking about the audition? I’m answering you.”

“Ah? Done?” Ding Ju repeated, fulfilling her role as a parrot. “Wait, done? Don’t you need to wait for a notification?”

Finally, she reacted, but couldn’t quite understand—so many people had auditioned, how could the director decide so directly? The key members of a production rarely made such straightforward decisions.

“There’s no need. The director told me to get ready—at latest, I’ll join the crew the day after tomorrow.” Chu Luoxi raised her brows, knowing that Qiu Xian’s style was indeed unconventional, but that was his way.

“Really?” Ding Ju felt dizzy, as if struck by fortune—happiness had come too quickly. “What did the producer say?”

“Still simmering, I suppose. Clearly you don’t know Director Qiu Xian—within the crew, his word is law, the producer’s opinion comes second. If he says so, it’s settled,” Chu Luoxi shook her head, kindly explaining.

“Um… I didn’t know—I’m just a life assistant, just started, so much I don’t understand.” Ding Ju blushed, embarrassed. “I didn’t expect you to know the director so well.”

“Ha, auditions aren’t just about acting. Sometimes, understanding the director’s preferences, opinions, and way of thinking increases your chances of success. After all, it’s the director making the film, and directors are human—you can tailor your approach.” Chu Luoxi spoke unconcernedly.

Though it’s not a decisive factor, it certainly adds points to one’s performance. Catering to preferences isn’t opportunism—it requires careful balance. Otherwise, if you lose sight of the essence, you’ll only suffer for it.

“Oh…” Ding Ju realized, having thought acting was simple. Now she saw it required mental effort—environment, relationships, human nature, every aspect mattered. Opportunities must be seized, and so-called luck was something one had to work hard to grasp.

No wonder so many sought this career, yet so few ever broke through—success required not only favorable circumstances, but also the right people and timing; often, one element was missing.

While eating, Chu Luoxi noticed Ding Ju carried a tablet and asked to borrow it.

After filming the MV for Xiao Jingxuan’s second album’s lead song, “Cycles,” Chu Luoxi had been busy with final exams. However extraordinary her memory, she still had to study, so she hadn’t paid much attention to the outside world. Whenever she had spare time, Bai Yun would catch her to discuss his new work. She was, it seemed, a little out of touch, and now needed to catch up.

In “Dragon Roars,” she was only a guest star, and in “Cycles,” the focus was the song, not the MV. Thus, Chu Luoxi hadn’t bothered to track news about herself. Though she’d seen plenty of headlines online, she was merely a supporting presence, hardly worth extensive coverage. An occasional mention was already quite good.

But yesterday, hearing Leng Lu mention that the audience’s reviews of her were positive, Chu Luoxi grew interested. She searched specifically for news about herself, and with this targeted approach, found plenty of information.

Various media reports mentioned her, but usually just a sentence or two, quickly moving on without detail—which was normal.

Although Yuntianxue was the soul of “Dragon Roars,” the audience and media would not grasp that depth; her appearance lasted barely half an episode, and viewers with poor memories would soon forget. To be mentioned in most reports now brought Chu Luoxi satisfaction—at least she was remembered.

As for the MV of “Cycles,” though she played the female lead, the song’s quality was so outstanding that everyone focused on the music, and everything else was mere embellishment. Occasionally, a few comments would note her presence, but praise was reserved for the song itself. Being overlooked was perfectly normal.

Chu Luoxi was not surprised at all; the great Xiao's allure was simply that powerful. Though she found the MV’s story compelling, it was only a few minutes long, with no dialogue—its essence lay in its beauty, and the rest had yet to unfold.

So, the lack of attention was entirely understandable.